The Ex-President part 3: Fate
by Aphelionite
Summary: Has Laura's fate once again been decided for her? And will Ellen finally get her revenge?
1. Chapter 1

AN: The return of rampaging Roslin! You know you've missed her…

Disclaimer: Okay, so I've completely forgotten to disclaim this story up til now (were you fooled? Did you think BSG was my own brilliant creation? Sorry to disabuse you) so consider this a blanket disclaimer for all of The Ex-President. I do not own it, I just like to hang out in RDM's world.

* * *

The Ex-President

Part Three:

**FATE**

"_In this short life_

_That only lasts an hour_

_How much - how little - is_

_Within our power"_

_~ Emily Dickinson ~_

* * *

**Chapter I**

* * *

The Zephyr, one of the more easily recognisable of the fleet's ships by its enormous ring, was fit to burst. Hell, pretty much every ship in the fleet was overcrowded since the Cloud Nine disaster but Laura wasn't fighting her way through overly curious passengers on any other ship. She realised that they were probably wondering where she'd disappeared to after the election but, seriously, didn't they have anything better to do? Every time she had to stop and wait for a bottle-neck to unclog she got more and more annoyed, especially as people kept feeling the need to tell her 'I voted for _you_', as if she cared. If they didn't get out of her way soon she was going to explode and gods help anyone unfortunate enough to be standing between here and her destination.

She had to pound on her former aide's door more than once to get her to open up, though her tardiness in answering was quickly explained by the presence of a half-naked man in her quarters. Laura didn't look remotely abashed to have interrupted them as the anonymous stud hurriedly finished dressing and fled. Obviously Laura looked as pissed off as she felt; he hadn't even bothered tying his bootlaces. She snapped the door shut behind him.

By the look on her face, Tory knew she was in trouble, she just hadn't figured out what for yet as she pulled on a light, green sweater. 'This is a surprise.'

'So was finding Maya's name on a settlement list this morning,' said Laura, skipping the pleasantries.

'_What? _Maya's _settling_?' said Tory, obviously hearing the news for the first time.

'Perhaps something the person who's supposed to be keeping an eye on her should have known.'

'She didn't mention it last time I saw her.'

Laura raised her eyebrows, 'Which was?'

Tory rubbed her neck, looking distinctly uncomfortable. 'Maybe a fortnight ago.'

''_Maybe _a fortnight ago'?' she repeated incredulously. 'Well that's just _perfect_,' she spat. 'For frak's sake, Tory, do you have _any _idea -' she broke off, shaking her head, livid.

'Laura, I'm sorry-' began Tory, far too late.

'Frak 'sorry',' snapped Laura, exerting considerable restraint in the face of an overwhelming desire to throttle her former aide. 'If I can't convince her to change her mind…'

'I thought _you _were in charge of the settlement list,' she said, a touch of sulky accusation in her voice.

Laura's look was withering. 'And bumping them off it for no apparent reason won't look in the least bit suspicious. We can't afford to draw attention to them.'

As if she hadn't already thought of that. At most she could only delay Maya, and not for long at that. Once the second wave started descending on New Caprica it was all over.

'Drink?' asked Tory, apparently out of asinine ideas as she poured herself a generous measure of emerald ambrosia.

'No,' refused Laura, though she could do with both a stiff drink and a cigarette. 'I have to talk to Maya. Try and fix this.'

But she had a sinking feeling that the situation might just be irreparable.

* * *

'How'd it go?' asked Tory a little over an hour later. They'd agreed to meet in The Dockers' Arms after Laura's talk with Maya, a locale Laura instantly took advantage of by ordering a double whisky, neat, staunchly ignoring the attention she was getting from the other patrons.

'It didn't,' she said, grimacing as she took a generous gulp of her drink. 'What could I say? It's like you said, people want real beds in real homes breathing real air and they're willing to brave the elements, and fool themselves into thinking the cylons won't find us here, to get it. Nothing I said made an impact. People are idiots,' she muttered to herself, quickly emptying her glass and signalling for another.

As bad as Tory felt for failing to keep an eye on Maya she knew that even with early warning it probably wouldn't have made a difference, she'd still be moving down to the surface and they'd still be in the same predicament. She therefore didn't feel guilty enough to try to make up for this transgression by getting suckered into babysitting Maya and Isis down on New Caprica. Oh no, Tory Foster did not do _tents_. She wasn't overly fond of babies either, one of the reasons she hesitated to call on Maya too often, sitting there pretending to be interested in every erupting tooth and bellyache and the ability to sleep through the night.

'So what are you going to do?' she asked.

The 'you' wasn't lost on Laura who had pretty much expected this attitude, after all, it wasn't like she was Tory's boss anymore, she couldn't just order her to do it because the thought of having to do it herself was almost incomprehensible. Oh gods, Laura _really _didn't want to have to move down to the surface - but who else was there? Only three people knew Isis's true identity: herself, Tory and Doc Cottle. And as Tory would not and Cottle could not, given that he was enlisted, that left Laura almost literally holding the baby. She could almost feel the shackles of her presidency claiming her back. She might not be in the big chair anymore but she was no less bound to the oath she took and the decisions she made back then. 'Kill myself,' she said, shaking her head as if she could not believe the cards life kept dealing her.

Tory didn't know what to say. She sympathised, but valued her own happiness more. It was a dog eat dog world, sometimes you just had to look out for number one. 'When are the last batch of settlers scheduled to leave?' she finally asked.

Laura had dug her cigarettes out of her handbag and lit one now, slowly deflating as she exhaled. 'A month,' she said. 'They'll start transplanting people in two weeks - if they manage to mop up the flooding.'

'What are you going to do when you get down there?'

'How the hell should I know? I haven't exactly had much time to think about it, have I?' she said curtly. In fact she hadn't thought about it at all. She was thinking about it _now _though. She had a sudden urge to cry. She decided to scurry back to Galactica instead.

* * *

That night when she finally fell into a fitful sleep she did not dream about the Cloud Nine explosion or Baltar for once. She dreamed of Caprica instead, she dreamed she had been there when the bombs fell, a nightmare she imagined many in the fleet had shared, she dreamed of _New _Caprica and the bombs falling again and awoke in a blinding flash of nuclear light.

_All of this has happened before and all of it will happen again._

She was a dead woman. She felt it in every limb as she lay cold in her bed, her only consolation that at least this time she would not have to live with the annihilation of the human race. Morbid as it was, that thought really did comfort her; she was tired of being one of the 'lucky' survivors, constantly having to pick herself up and troop on without the people she cared about.

She called Bill to beg off their run in the morning, not really in the mood to work out. To be honest, she was having trouble getting out of bed at all, she just wanted to snuggle down beneath the covers and imagine a life where she got to make her own decisions instead of being swept from pillar to post.

She was late for breakfast and couldn't face it when she got there, only pouring herself a cup of coffee. 'You look like hell,' said Bill, not troubling to sugar-coat his observation.

That's what she got for deciding she couldn't be bothered to apply foundation today. 'Headache,' she said, which wasn't just an excuse, the stress of the last twenty-four hours had culminated in a doozy.

'Let me get you some painkillers,' he said, getting up.

'That or a hammer,' she requested, massaging her eyes.

'We'll call that plan B.'

'Thanks,' she said, popping the lid off the bottle. She'd taken a couple of painkillers after she'd called him this morning but they'd hardly made a dent.

'Did you get _any _sleep?'

'Are the circles under my eyes that dark?' she asked, hoping to assuage his obvious concern with a joke and a small smile. He wasn't convinced.

'Maybe you picked something up aboard the Zephyr. I hear there's flu going around.'

'Honestly, it's just a headache, Bill. You want to do me a favour? Show me how to mute your phones.'

She was still attempting to smile, but underneath alarm bells had started ringing. Up till now all she'd thought about was how awful it would be to live on New Caprica, all of a sudden it began to dawn on her what she would be leaving _behind _on Galactica. She tried to imagine not seeing Bill every day, not having him there to gripe to, or laugh with, or steal books from. He was the best friend she had in the world and she found herself feeling a little knock-kneed as she contemplated facing the challenge of making a life on New Caprica without his support to keep her sane.

Every time she got attached to someone Fate threw a spanner in the works. Every single frakking time. Her headache throbbed ever more painfully. She didn't know how she was going to tell Bill she was leaving without cracking up, let alone convince him that it was of her own volition after the way she'd carried on in the last couple of months. What was she going to tell him when he asked her why she was doing it?

She couldn't exactly tell him she had to move down to the surface to keep an eye on the human/cylon hybrid she had conspired with a member of his crew to kidnap from his ship without his knowledge. She didn't think it would go down very well, nor was she willing to risk news of Hera's survival getting out should Bill decide to reverse her decision. She was convinced that would mean almost certain death for the child, not to mention breaking Maya's heart. Laura knew that she had given Hera her only chance of a normal life, she'd made the right choice, why did these things always end up biting her in the ass?

'Maybe you should lie down for a while,' said Bill, touching her arm to get her attention.

'Maybe I will,' she agreed. 'I think I have a migraine coming on.' Well, she _had _wanted to stay in bed all day; the way things were shaping up she just might get her wish.

* * *

_AN: Would love to hear what you think of the story so far and the sudden emergence of some actual plot (I think). Hopefully chapter 2 will be ready soon… ish. :P_


	2. Chapter 2

The Ex-President

**FATE**

**Chapter II**

* * *

The atmosphere at dinner was morgue-like and Bill seemed helpless to resuscitate it, worse, he seemed to make it a little worse every time he opened his mouth. Laura obviously wasn't feeling well, she hadn't touched her food and she'd been asleep in his bunk when he'd gotten home from work, but when he'd suggested a walk down to life-station all he'd gotten was an annoyed accusation of his being a mother-hen. The next topic of conversation he tried did nothing to lift her spirits, though he hadn't really expected it to.

'I was wondering if you wanted to say anything at the ceremony. The anniversary ceremony,' he clarified when she looked at him blankly. He was surprised that she could forget something as momentous as the one year anniversary of the attacks on their home-worlds. The atmosphere aboard was becoming noticeably more subdued as the date approached.

'Actually, I've been asked to lead the civilian service,' she revealed, 'so if you don't mind, I think I'll leave the military one to you.'

Galactica had had nearly two-hundred refugees camped out in the starboard hangar since the Cloud 9 disaster, those that couldn't be found a space on a civilian ship.

'I didn't realise they'd asked you.'

'And you didn't think I'd say yes even if they did,' she finished for him, reading his mind.

He shrugged. Guilty.

'It's the anniversary of the attacks, it's bigger than me. I should be there,' she said quietly, lighting a cigarette and tossing the packet onto the table in resignation.

'I'm sure they'll appreciate having you there.'

'Hmm,' she said, not sounding so sure. 'I have no idea what I'm supposed to say to them, but I suppose I'd better figure it out, only a couple of days to go.'

'I'd steer away from telling them they're all doomed, if you're asking my advice,' he said, with a ghost of a smile.

'But it's my favourite refrain,' she lamented.

'You'll think of something, you'll give them hope, you always did.'

'How can you still believe that?' she said morosely.

'Just because you stopped believing in yourself doesn't mean the rest of us did. You know if it hadn't been for this planet you would've won the election hands-down. They still look up to you, there's still a lot of good you can do here.'

Far from bucking her up this statement only seemed to make her sadder and she was soon trying to excuse herself for the night, as she was wont to do when the conversation threatened to take an intimate turn.

'Something on your mind?' he asked before she could leave, wondering if he'd missed something. She was always so taciturn with her feelings, always the brave face.

She shrugged, shaking her head. 'No more than the usual. I'll see you in the morning.'

'Laura,' he wheedled, trapping her hand on his shoulder with his own, reluctant to let her go this time. 'You know I wouldn't think less of you if you talked about it once in a while.'

For a moment he thought she was going to cry but she managed to blink back the tears and procure him a small, miserable smile. 'You're sweet,' she said, surprisingly him by bending to press a brief kiss against his temple, 'but I'll be fine.'

And she was gone, again.

* * *

A lot of things had changed since the fall of the twelve colonies, not least of them Laura Roslin. Her feelings, even the way she thought, were so different now. Her so-called principles had turned out to be nothing more than a meaningless line in the sand, brought to ruin, like everything else, by the cylons. This wasn't who she was meant to be, this hadn't been in the plan, she had never wanted to shoulder that kind of responsibility. Power had corrupted her, not because she thirsted after it but because life wasn't a movie that twisted and turned but always turned out right in the end, there hadn't always _been _a clean solution and so she'd been forced to use ones that made her feel dirty from time to time.

Forced by some frakked up machines and their frakked up idea of genocidal justice. Laura had one such machine in her sights right now: Galactica's resident cylon. She had been sitting in the observation room for almost an hour now, watching Sharon Valerii sleep, wondering what machines dreamt, for it seemed to be dreaming something. Did they have nightmares? She certainly hoped so, it seemed only fair, they'd featured in her nightmares often enough and she was sure she wasn't the only one. She was sure, too, that there were a lot of people who would pay dearly for five minutes alone with the cylon prisoner and a two-by-four.

Laura wouldn't mind taking a crack, watching it lying there, looking so human, when it wasn't human, not flesh and bone but flesh and ice; a machine, a stupid machine. In that moment she hated Sharon with every fibre of her being, hated her as the representative of a race that had brought her own to its knees, that had corrupted her, that had made her capable of such pure, unadulterated hatred in the first place. She'd been a teacher for frak's sake, the secretary of education, never in a million years had she pictured herself throwing people out of airlocks.

But they weren't _people_, she truly believed that; they were only imitations, unquestionably good imitations, built to prey upon their sympathies and their doubts and their weaknesses, but far from human. Humans stayed dead, those things got lifetime after lifetime.

She felt no gratitude towards Sharon for her own second chance at life; as far as Laura was concerned it had been Hera who had cured her cancer, and Hera was half human. Nor did she feel guilty for any emotional pain she might have caused Sharon by faking her child's death. On the contrary, right now she was glad, because nothing that _thing_ felt could come close to the pain of the survivors of the Twelve Colonies, could make up for the anguish of losing billions of people, twelve distinct cultures, some of them barely represented in this altered reality. As far as Laura was concerned she had _saved_ Hera from that soulless cylon and if Bill had any sense he'd flush it out an airlock tomorrow; every moment she was aboard she was a security threat.

Think of the devil. She heard footsteps and knew it would be Bill, she hadn't heard the phone ring with orders to turf her out nor did she think the guard would leave his post for a friendly chat, so who else could it be but Bill, come to see why he had gotten a phone-call at five in the morning asking permission for her to be let into the observation room. He had obviously granted it, and she had been here a while before his curiosity had finally gotten the better of him.

'Less than two hours till the ceremonies,' he said, not asking what had kept her here so long, or even why she was here in the first place. Perhaps he had already guessed. Or perhaps he didn't want to know.

'Do you ever think about what would happen if she escaped?' Laura asked, not sure if she was being rhetorical or not. 'You know we wouldn't stand a chance, if she led the cylons here.'

Bill was slow to respond. He already knew Laura's feelings on the subject, they'd discussed it at length after Starbuck's triumphant return with the survivors from Caprica, a rescue that wouldn't have been possible without Sharon. 'She's helped us a lot.' Which was his way of saying he had no reason to execute her.

'She knowingly allowed a cylon to board your ship not so long ago, Admiral, I wouldn't trust her with the safety of the fleet just yet. She's a conniving machine who thinks we murdered her child. She's more dangerous than ever,' she warned, taking her eyes off Sharon for the first time.

'I have faith in our security arrangements.'

'Huh,' she smiled bitterly. Just like he thought the settlers stood a snowball's chance in Hades of withstanding a cylon attack long enough to escape. While it was too late to stop the settlement, keeping Sharon around was a risk they didn't have to take - _he_ didn't have to take, she corrected herself. _She _didn't have a say anymore, though of course the issue was a military one so she had never really had a say in the first place, only her powers of persuasion. Story of her life. 'Let's get this day over with,' she relented.

She didn't want to get into another pointless argument with Bill, today of all days. She wasn't really upset with him_, _just sick of the constant knot in the pit of her stomach, acutely aware of everything that could go wrong. Even if he walked into Sharon's cell right now and put a bullet in her brain it probably wouldn't loosen the knot in Laura's stomach, nor would it increase their odds of survival; there was every chance the cylons would find them without Sharon's help. Sharon was simply the nearest target for her pain, but today wasn't supposed to be about hating _them_, it was about honouring the memories of the billions lost.

And she had a speech to give.

* * *

_AN: Sorry the posting pace has dropped on this story, we are now into the unwritten portion so you'll have to be a bit more patient for updates ;) As always, thank you for reading, reviews make me smiley…_


	3. Chapter 3

So it turns out two wrongs _do_ make a right, meaning chapters three and four were being a pain in the ass so I squashed them together et voila, problem solved. Neither scene is as long as I wanted but at least now I can move the story forward ;)

* * *

**FATE**

**Chapter III**

The memorial had been sad. Not that Laura had expected it to be a joyful affair but she hadn't realised how hard it would hit her, sharing in the grief and prayers of Galactica's small civilian population. She'd spent more than three hours with them after the ceremony, surprising herself with her reassurances that Admiral Adama would keep them safe. They had already lost so much, she couldn't rob them of the little hope they had planted on this rock, not when it served no purpose.

Alone in her quarters afterwards, she unwrapped her idols for the first time since coming aboard Galactica, lit a dozen candles and seated herself on the floor with a scroll and pen. The civvies had given her the idea, each writing down as many names as they could remember and then burning the scroll. And still there were so many more who were too faint a memory to recall a name to mind.

Laura began with Richard, the man who should have been making the decisions instead of her after the attacks, and the other forty-odd people who could have ended up being president. The priestess Elosha, killed by a mine on Kobol. What did her sacrifice mean now? Laura had found the map to Earth but what good was that if she couldn't convince people to follow it? And Billy, sweet Billy. His death had been pointless right from the start…

She took his picture down from her desk. Gods, he had been _so _young_. _Losing him had been like having her heart torn out, which was, unfortunately, not a new sensation for Laura. Just when she thought she was done with that kind of pain, that she had guarded against loving anyone deeply enough to get hurt, that sweet, courageous, _good_ man had slipped under her guard. She hadn't realised how close to her heart he truly was until he was snatched away.

She remembered the first time she had met him, interviewing him for the position he had filled for the last three years of his life. He was polite, respectful, accomplished, efficient, like all the other applicants, but what she'd really admired was that, contrary to his competitors, he didn't seem to be telling her what he thought she wanted to hear. He'd voiced opinions that he clearly wasn't sure would be well received rather than waiting to see what her position was before deciding on his own. She'd liked his artless conviction, and she just knew that it was going to carry him high into the political ranks, perhaps all the way to the top.

After that he'd been her right hand man. She'd encouraged him to have an opinion on everything and found, as she'd suspected, that he was a thoughtful, observant, insightful young man. She became used to her faithful shadow, and after the Attacks she truly didn't know what she would have done without him. Aside from continuing to do his job incredibly well having just lost his entire family, his mere presence bolstered her self-possession, kept reminding her that she had to be the one to find a way to keep everyone alive, including him. Especially him.

How could she have known that she was sending him to his death that night on Cloud Nine? She'd thought she'd been doing him a favour: he hadn't said it directly but she could tell by the crushed look on his face that his proposal to Petty Officer Dualla had gone badly, or at least, not the way he wanted. So she'd connived to have him get away from Colonial One for the evening, sent him in person to handle a trivial problem that could have been dealt with over the phone. If she'd only left him to pine alone in his own quarters, he'd still be here, not drifting out in the cold vacuum of space with a terrorist bullet through his heart…

She started at the sound of someone at her door. 'It's open,' she called, quickly wiping her eyes. Bill said he might pop by after the memorials.

'Am I interrupting?' he asked, hesitating upon seeing the idols and her position on the floor.

'No, no, come in,' she waved, pulling herself onto the sofa and indicating for him to do the same. 'How was your morning?' she asked, adding, 'No pun intended,' when he almost laughed. Almost.

'I'm glad it's over,' he said, relaxing back into the cushions and casting her a curious look, perhaps noticing her wet lashes. 'How'd yours go? I tried calling for you earlier.'

'Turns out I'm more popular than I thought.' The look on Bill's face reeked of 'I told you so's but she narrowed her eyes, daring him to say it out loud. He shook his head a little, looking away without comment.

His gaze fell instead on the photo of Billy she'd left on the floor and they both grew pensive, the sadness of the day washing over them anew. 'You miss him,' he said at last.

Her sigh was heavy with longing. 'All the time,' she admitted quietly.

Bill covered her hand with his own in empathy and she thought he must be thinking of his son, Zak. She laced her pale, smooth fingers through his dark gnarled ones and rested her temple against his shoulder. She didn't need to ask if it got easier, she already knew it wouldn't. _This _was the best comfort they could hope for; a hand to hold, a shoulder to cry on, somebody who understood.

For once Laura allowed the silent tears to fall; for the Colonies, for Billy… and for Bill.

* * *

Laura was not looking forward to dinner. She would have wriggled out of it if not for Bill's practically begging her not to leave him at the mercy of Ellen Tigh, especially after their last meeting; she still hadn't gotten them back for harbouring Saul and it was too much to hope for that she'd forgotten about it. She was the first to arrive, dressed in black to fit the occasion. Ellen, of course, observed no such drab dress-code and arrived in a lilac and purple patterned dress that showed off her curves to best advantage alongside Saul who, like the admiral, was wearing his dress uniform. Last to arrive were Doctor Cottle and Lee, the latter taking one look at Ellen and heading straight for the drinks cart: it seemed Laura and Bill were not the only ones anticipating a long night.

The aperitifs portion of the evening did not last long as Private Boyd arrived twenty minutes later, casting a nervous glance towards Laura as he manoeuvred the dinner cart over the threshold. Ellen, of course, missed nothing, least of all the opportunity to embarrass half the room's occupants with her observations. Bill barely concealed his sigh of dismay as she locked onto Boyd's half glances in Laura's direction as he unloaded the cart, though Laura was blissfully oblivious as she chatted with Cottle.

'Laura, do introduce us to your young admirer,' she said with a predatory grin. Boyd went from pink to crimson in three seconds flat as all eyes suddenly landed squarely on him. Laura was horrified to feel her own cheeks warming a little on his behalf as she realised it was true; how the hell had she missed _that? _Suddenly it all seemed blindingly obvious, no wonder Bill had been laughing his arse off all these weeks. She would have laughed, too, if she wasn't afraid of hurting the poor kid's feelings, sympathies which Lee, Saul and Cottle did not seem to share as they did little to conceal their amusement. 'Lucky girl,' said Ellen lasciviously.

Laura widened her eyes at Bill, hoping to convey that she held him entirely responsible for putting them both in this position. Why couldn't he have just reassigned Boyd when she frakking asked him to?

'Get out of here, kid,' he muttered out of the corner of his mouth, an order the private obeyed before it was fully given. Laura only wished she could vanish too.

'Well that was cruel,' said Laura once the hatch had closed behind him, casting a cold eye on Ellen.

'Oh don't be so uptight, I was just having a little fun,' said Ellen, looking completely unconcerned as she poured herself another drink, her third since arriving.

'Yes, I think we all know what your idea of a little fun is,' she said waspishly, her meaning all too clear.

The men in the room held their collective breath.

'This coming from a woman who likes to hide out in bathrooms with other people's husbands,' Ellen was quick to air.

Lee and Cottle's eyebrows shot up whilst Bill and Saul's shoulders slumped. This could get ugly.

Laura snorted. 'I can assure you I have absolutely _zero _interest in _your _husband,' she said, signing a zero with her hand.

Saul was too smart to be offended by this. Ellen on the other hand. 'Don't you look down your nose at us-'

'Ellen,' said Saul, recognising that tone and finally realising his intervention might be prudent.

'No! She thinks she's so much better than us just because she was president for five minutes. Well if you're so great, how come you were voted out the first chance people got? Huh? Answer that!'

The effort of _not _answering that made Laura squeeze her glass so hard it shattered.

'I'm supposed to have the night off, young lady,' said Cottle, still dangerously close to looking amused as Ellen sauntered off thinking she had won. He glanced at her hand. 'You alright?'

'Fine,' said Laura through gritted teeth, excusing herself to the bathroom to wash the glass off her hands.

Bill was quick to secure the seat next to his at the dinner table for Laura. 'Coward,' she muttered under her breath as he pulled her chair out for her, knowing it was only to avoid getting stuck next to Mrs Tigh. Funny how the little social conventions still existed, people automatically seating themselves to produce the best male to female ratio so that it was Lee, seated opposite Bill and looking like a trapped man, who drew the short straw. Cottle took a seat beside Laura, though he wasn't entirely safe either given what Laura suspected of Ellen's under-the-table antics.

Once they were all settled, Bill raised his glass, 'To the Twelve Colonies.'

'The Twelve Colonies,' his guests echoed, keeping their silence for a few moments after.

Dinner was a fairly civilised affair, for a while at least. 'So, how's the Pegasus treating you?' Laura asked Lee. It had been quite a while since last she'd seen him, not since the election in fact.

'Not bad,' he answered with a half-shrug. 'I'll be glad when we offload the civilians we took in after the Cloud Nine explosion.'

'Giving you trouble?' she asked with a knowing smile. These military types, they were so used to commanding men and women who were trained and bound to absolute obedience, but civilians weren't going to automatically do as they were told, they required convincing and a whole lot of patience. Bill had learned that the hard way when he declared martial law.

'It's the kids, they get everywhere, especially where they're not supposed to be. We had half the crew looking for a little girl last week. Turned out she'd been playing hide and seek and fell asleep in a trunk in the pilots rec room. She's lucky she didn't suffocate,' he said, looking slightly harassed.

'Only a few more weeks and they'll be out of your hair,' she reassured him. 'From what I hear, Canvas County's almost up and running.'

'Canvas County?' Bill queried.

'That's what they're calling the temporary site,' Laura elucidated.

'Speaking of which,' said Ellen, making Saul grumble and reach for his glass. 'What does a girl have to do to get off this ship?'

Bill's foot hit Laura's under the table. How had he known she was about to suggest an airlock?

'You're free to leave any time,' he said to Ellen, and probably sincerely meant it.

'And Saul?'

The admiral shook his head, 'I need my men here. If the cylons come back-'

'Oh the cylons aren't going to find us here,' she pooh-poohed. 'And besides, I'm sure you can spare _one_ man.'

'It wouldn't be fair to the others.' Anyone else would have seen that it was futile trying to argue with him, he had no intention of debating the point, but Ellen was, well, _Ellen._

'What's not fair is keeping them locked up here while everyone else gets to start a new life down on New Caprica.'

'Ellen,' said Saul reproachfully.

'What? I'm sure Laura's going to settle,' Laura almost spilled her drink but Ellen didn't wait for confirmation. 'I don't see why we shouldn't get the same chance.'

'Because someone has to guard the planet,' said Saul, obviously not for the first time.

'But the nebula-'

'Isn't going to stop a cylon fleet if they stick their heads in here. And besides,' Saul added repressively, 'I wouldn't go anyway.'

This couldn't have been news to Ellen but she looked put out nonetheless, perhaps hoping that if she could convince Bill, she could convince her husband.

Laura was glad when the conversation moved onto a safer topic, and gladder still when dinner was through and the Tighes were preparing to leave; Ellen had a way of making two hours feel more like two _days_.

* * *

AN: yeah, so it turns out I find Ellen incredibly difficult to write. I wanted a much longer dinner scene but I just can't get a handle on her. Me thinks I shall be leaving her out of future writings. Thanks for reading, hope everyone has a great xmas and new year! See you all in 2014 x


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